


We Can Pretend (Until Time Runs Out)

by TheQueen



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Human-Werewolf Interactions, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Marauder's Era (Harry Potter), Minor Character Death, The Marauder's Map, Time Travel Fix-It, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sirius has the chance to change everything, he’s pretty sure he’s going to fuck it up instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “You Can Do Better Than That”

"Come on, you can do better than that!... And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place."

~ J.K. Rowling  _(Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)_

…

**Date: June 18, 1996**

“Come on,” Sirius cried, laughing. Merlin, he hadn’t had this much fun in ages. Ages! “You can do better than that!” He taunted, dodging a killing curse.

Bellatrix had never been able to best him at dueling and even now he knew she wouldn’t. He also knew he should just disarmed her and been done with it—her shield charms had always been on the weaker side—but he was having too much fun to stop just then.

Opening his mouth to call out his next spell—Moody would have been extremely displeased as his refusal to use wordless magic but Sirius didn’t care, it was too easy then—when he felt his world tilt and his feet go out from under him.

To his left, he heard someone screaming his name. Then he heard nothing more.

…

**Date: September 1, 1974**

Sirius Black, age 37, stepped onto Platform 9 ¾, his luggage firmly in hand. Besides him, his younger brother, Regulus Black, age 13, stood facing away towards their mother, listening,

“And remember, when you go to Hogwarts,” his mother, Walburga Black, age 49, continued, “You are going as representatives of our house and name. I want to hear no reports of lollygagging and mischief-making.  Sirius, are you listening to me?”

Sirius turned to face his mother and saw a painting, just for a moment, before he saw a woman, “Yes, Mother.”

Walburga frowned. They had the same face, Sirius thought, they had the same face and the same eyes and the same hair. And one day, they would be the same height. And yet, he thought rather morbidly, he would never live to be as old as she was now. “What did I just say?”

Sirius wondered if he looked like that when he frowned and supposed he did. “No mischief-making or lollygagging that could hurt the family name,” Sirius parroted, turning away again to roll his eyes.

He had heard this far too many times. First when he was truly a child and now again, a grown man in a child’s body, all throughout the summer and now on the platform, off to school in a way he had not gone in 20 years.

Walburga gave him a look but said nothing else and turned back to Regulus, straightening his collar and tightening his tie.

Sirius turned his attention back to the Platform where families were saying their goodbyes, helping their children onto the train, or leaving, heading back to their lives. Outside his bubble with his long dead brother and mother, Sirius felt strangely disconnected from the world and everyone in it. He was just watching, taking it all in, and wondering how this was all possible.

He knew it was real.

When Sirius had first woken up in his bed, he was livid, horrified, disgusted. Bellatrix had beaten him! She had gotten the best of him! He felt like kicking himself. He should have just finished her off and been done with it. But…but he was sure that that would have been the last time Dumbledore would have let him out of the house and, honestly, he had just wanted to milk it while he could. Now he had lost and Snivellous was never going to let him hear the end of it. He felt like smothering himself and just being done with it.

And then Regulus had walked into his room, saying something about how their mother wanting him down for brunch with the second branch and Sirius had found himself screaming, throwing himself off the bed and forcing a shocked and terrified Regulus out of his room with a wandless wind charm strong enough to be felt throughout the house.

Father had been livid for all of 15 minutes (as Regulus had told him later) before the family had realized they couldn’t force the door open. Apparently, Sirius had glued the door shut and even he was surprised by the strength. Azkaban had taken most of his magic and he hadn’t had an accidental outburst since he was 11 when Snivellous had cut off all his hair during the fourth week of school.

It took them three hours to end the spell and it was only because Sirius had begun to feel the drain.

He didn’t remember much after that.

He woke up again in St. Mungos, his brother sleeping on the edge of his bed and his father talking to a Healer. Mother was not there. Apparently, he had been in a coma for about four days and 12 hours. His magical levels had been dangerously low, even before his outburst, and his mindspace had shown signs of extended exposure to Dementors—“most likely brought on by a curse that had also drained his magic”. He had also severally strained his vocal chords while screaming. They were going to keep him under observation for another day or two before discharging him.

They kept him for three when they saw his magic wasn’t recovering as fast as it should have—usually a sign of acute starvation, but unexplainable in this case. When he returned to GrimmauldPlace in the company of his dead family, he went straight up to his room only to find himself without a lock—or a door for that matter. He felt like screaming, but refrained in hopes of not going to the hospital again—it had been painful playing dumb during the diagnosis.

The month after was one of Sirius’ most surreal experiences that he was sure he was dead. He just needed to prove it. Certainly, these things that looked like his blood family where no more than projections of his dying mind, he just had to wait for them to trip up.

But they never did.

                  “What do you think of putting portrait in the Hall, Mother?”

 “I have no time for this, Sirius.”

                  “Hey, Reg! What do you think of the Lord Voldemort?”

 “Shhhh! You want to get us in trouble!”

                  “Father, how do you suppose you die?”

 “…I’ll speak to you in a moment, Sirius. Now, where were we?”

“’Mr. Donevello, while I understand. I too implore you to understand. Someone nearly killed my son,’ Mister Back.”

“Thank you, Martha…Yes now, someone nearly killed my son and yet I do not see the DMLE doing enough to find out who did it…”

Finally, Sirius couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want this…this purgatory. He knew he was near death; when would he finally just die? He didn’t want to see these people, people who were dead (especially, Reg who had taken to following him around and sitting with him as if they were children again). He didn’t want to relieve his mistakes. Certainly not fifth year. He wanted out.

And he had heard that dying in dreams meant you died in real life too.

(He only hoped Harry could forgive him for his selfishness.)

Three weeks after the hospital visit, his family went to visit the Manor in the Parisian countryside. Their first night there, Sirius walked out of the fourth story window.

It was Kreatcher who found him and saved his life.

His father made sure no one outside of the four of them knew. He paid the Mind-Healer to keep quiet when Sirius insisted that he was dead and brought in world-renowned Healer Henry Olsich to find any lingering curses that could have done such terrible things to his heir’s mind.

(In the end, Olsich found nothing to justify his expenses and so made claimed that it was a strange mixture of an Imperious Curse, Legilimeny, and a Cunfundo charm that caused Sirius to walk out the window and then later convince him he had died. Father contacted the DMLE immediately after demanding protection.)

After that, Sirius was forced to accept that maybe he wasn’t dead, but back. That this was real. And that somehow, somehow during that duel with Bellatrix, he had been sent back in time into his 14-nearly-15 year old body and he felt sick.

And now here he was, about to board the Hogwarts Express, about to go to Hogwarts. About to walk through those doors as a free man, not a dog, just as he had dreamed of two years ago. Only it wouldn’t be with Harry at his side, but…

“Sirius! Sirius, mate!”

Sirius felt ill. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own luggage. His mother caught him, her slim, strong fingers wrapping around his shoulders to keep him upright. “Sirius?”

Sirius opened his mouth, moved his jaw and tongue uselessly before he managed to make a sound, “I…I don’t feel…”

His mother’s hold tightened and she gave Regulus a pointed look, communicating to go get his father, Orion Black, age 50, who was talking to the Goyles a few steps away.

“I don’t…” Sirius tried again, turning to face his mother.

“Breath, Sirius,” his mother commanded, “Remember what the Mind Healer said.” She spoke in whispers so that no one over heard and Sirius was sure if he were looking at this scene from outside his body it would look as if she were merely scolding him for something or the other, as always.

Mother had always been very good at keeping appearances.

Though after his near deaths, his family had changed (or maybe he remembered them poorly). His father spent more time with him, talking to him about the family business and the family politics. He took Sirius to the Ministry and let him sit in on a debate about the new tax regulations in the heir seat, something he hadn’t done since he was 9. Regulus did not ignore him or keep his distance under Mother’s watchful eye, but instead clung to him as if they were 10 and 7 and neither had ever been separated by house or family expectation or blood views. His mother had been the most surprising. She didn’t spend more time with him or interact with him more than he remembered. She was the same, cold, unmovable fixture in his life as she had been until he ran away that summer (next summer?). She did not mention his friends or his house or his views.  If something upset him, she made it go away unless it pleased her. She allowed the house-elves to make his favorites for dinner some days.

It was strange. He had never seen his mother so...attentive.  Or at least, not towards him.

Father looked at him over his mother’s shoulder, “Sirius, what is wrong?”

Sirius could not speak.

“Orion, is everything all right?”

The urge to hurl intensified and he took heavy breaths. He took another step forward into his mother’s hold and kept his head bowed. He didn’t want to see who that voice belonged to even though he knew.

Regulus held his hand.

“It is fine, Harry” his father said, turning to face Harry Potter, age 55, and his family: wife, Margret Potter, age 49 and son, James Potter, age 15.

Sirius squeezed Regulus’ hand back, tightly.

“Is Sirius all right?” Mrs. Potter—he used to call her Mum, the only woman he had ever called Mum—asked. Mother’s grip moved him closer and away from the gathered family.

“I thank you for your concern, but Sirius is fine.” His mother replied.

Suddenly, an Auror, Ashworth, stepped forward and said, “The area is secure, sir.”

Sirius sparred a glance to see his father’s face tighten. Obviously, he did not want the Potters to know what was going on.

“Thank you, and the train?”

“Secure.”

A second Auror stepped forward and took the bag from Sirius’ hand. “If you could please accompany me, Mr. Black.”

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to get his heart rate to settle, and nodded. His mother let go. Regulus held his hand and together they boarded the train.

Sirius never looked at James. He couldn’t do it. But he knew what he looked like. He knew James’ face; he knew James’ reactions. He knew that if he turned, he’d see James was confused and worried, but mostly worried: eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched with his lips drawn in in a tight frown. He would see the way his hair stuck up in every different directions as if he’d never seen a comb in his life and the way his dress shirt wouldn’t be tucked in and his robes would be falling off him despite being sized perfectly. And he could see all of this without looking and his knees gave out the minute he stepped into the compartment where the Aurors had placed their bags.

“Sirius,” the second Auror, Baggins, asked, “Can you tell me what is wrong?”

Sirius took deep breaths, “Nauseous,” he said finally.

“Do you feel like you’re being compelled?” Ashworth asked.

Sirius shook his head. “Weak, though,” he added, “As if all my energy was gone.” Give them a little and they’d run with it. Just enough of the truth to back the lie.

“Baggins, stay with him, I’m going to alert Moody that there’s been an incident,” Ashworth commanded before leaving the room.

Baggins took a seat across from him. She was a nice looking girl, wavy hair and a strong face. Not his type, but all right. If his body had been just 4 years older, he’d made a pass at her. In fact, part of him remembered that even at this body’s current age he’d have made a pass at her. But now…now he was much too old for her at 37 and her at 26. Plus, he wasn’t sure he remembered how to make a pass at someone. He hadn’t done so in 18 years.

Lying down with his head in Regulus’ lap, he decided he would have to learn how again. If he was going to convince anyone that he was the same Sirius Black he had been when he was 14-nearly-15 years old.

He knew he’d already mucked things up. Couldn’t even look at his best friend. Regulus pet his hair and Sirius imagined it was Harry petting Padfoot and began to feel sleepy.

Yes. He’d have to fix things…if he wanted to change anything, he was going to have to fix things.

Himself, included.


	2. “I’m Not Lying”

“I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.”

~ S.E. Hinton  _(The Outsiders)_

…

**Date: September 1, 1973**

Sirius woke to find the compartment full and Baggins looking furious.

“I told you,” she hissed, “Keep your voices down.”

Regulus had stopped petting him and he heard the flipping of a page. He hoped it wasn’t  _Lilith: A Magical Mystery_  because he really truly hated that book, but he remembered Regulus reading it often and loving it. He had no taste.

Groaning softly, he started to sit up when four pairs of hands reached out to help him and he flung himself away in fright born of enough years on the run and before under Mad Eye Moody’s tutelage, only stopping when his back hit the corner.

Baggins cursed, “Sirius,” she said, drawing his attention towards her. She looked frazzled and there was blue powder in her hair. “Can you hear me?”

Sirius nodded.

“Do you know where you are? Can you tell me?”

Sirius cleared his throat, “Hogwarts Express.”

She smiled, “Okay, do you want to tell me how you feel?”

They’d done this before. Baggins was a trained Healer and an Auror, one of the best (like his father would accept any less) and after the first week of Sirius waking up with nightmares (because who wouldn’t have nightmares after what he’d been through) she had set up a sort of routine to help him re-establish himself, as she put it.

“Tired,” Sirius said, “Um…but not nauseous or weak. Just…just a little tired.”

“Thank you, Sirius,” she said and backed off.

That was when Sirius realized there were three other faces in the compartment, all of them looking varying degrees of terrified.

Sirius forced himself not to feel sick and to breathe easy. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to start panicking. But he still couldn’t look at them, especially…. Instead, he looked out the window as Regulus moved so they were sitting close enough for their knees to be touching.

Sirius had gotten used to Regulus. They hadn’t been very close during his Hogwarts years and when the war had come and Regalus had died, Sirius hadn’t felt as sad as he should have—as he would have had things been different. And so having Regulus back had been strange, but easy in comparison to…. Because a part of Sirius—once he’d accepted that this was real—could pretend that he was meeting Regulus after a long, natural separation and because the more he got to know Regulus, the more Sirius had to admit this was not the same little brother he remembered (and really how well had he known his brother in those last years? Torn apart by war and politics and morals and family, when had they ever had a chance to just sit down and talk?). And it helped that Regulus made an effort to interact with him.

And, so now, Sirius felt comfortable with his brother, comfortable enough to breath easy around him, look him in the eye, and accept this reality for what it was—surreal and impossible but still real.

He did not feel comfortable with the three faces starring at him.

He forced himself to look, not to meet their eyes, but to look, anyway.

He started with Remus. Remus wasn’t dead. And now he looked young. He looked happy. Yes, he still had that scar under his right eye and part of his ear hadn’t finished regrowing after the last full. His clothes were not much better and he was still a bit gangly and awkward. He hunched—Sirius made a note to try and fix that again—but he had laugh lines and his eyes were so much more expressive then they would be when he was older. He didn’t have any grey in his hair. He didn’t look starved. He looked happy.

He then looked at Peter. He looked at Peter and waited for that hot flash of rage, of murderous intent to color everything red and move him forward, drive him. But…but this boy looked nothing, nothing like the whimpering little thing of a man he’d seen that night in the Shrieking Shack nor the man he would know during the war. The Peter he knew, the Peter he had befriended and seen as a brother, had always looked the youngest of the group with his soft face, a trait he had gotten from his mother made younger by the baby fat that clung stubbornly to his cheeks. His body had yet to reach that too-tall-for-his-own-good phase and instead stayed small and soft. It was only older that he would begin to look properly plump. His blond hair fell neatly about his ears and he had a face made for laughing with big dimples. He, too, looked so very happy.

Finally, he looked at James. And he saw Harry. He saw the same pointy chin and the thick black glasses that shielded sparkling eyes. He saw the same, ridiculous, wild hair and the same dimples—smaller but there. He saw the same lips pulled down into a frown and he knew when James smiled, he’d see Harry laughing in the snow and Harry leaning close through the fire and Harry the night he had offered the boy a home. But that was where the similarities stopped. Where Harry had old, green eyes that had seen too much, James’ hazel eyes sparkled with innocence. Where Harry had been too thin, James was reaching that point where puberty was finishing its ugly stage. And he knew as the year progressed that James would develop the body of a true Quidditch player with a narrow frame and thin, strong muscles. But now, he looked like an average 15-year-old boy who hit his growth spurt too fast and didn’t know what to do with all the extra height. And like the others, James too looked like he was made for laughter and fun and happiness.

And Sirius could not look at them too long or he knew he would begin to cry and that would give everything up. Because a crying Sirius had always been an annoyingly truthful one, prone to blurting out everything that he wouldn’t have said if he hadn’t been so bloody emotional.

“Sirius?” Regulus asked.

Sirius shook his head and noticed that everyone was still looking at him. “Sorry,” he said, “I…I went away for a bit.”

“Do you…”

“No,” Sirius cut Baggins off, but it was too late. She had already radioed her partner and he could hear running. The compartment burst open and Ashworth stepped in, “Everyone, out.”

Regulus squeezed Sirus’ hand before doing as told, pushing the others out of the compartment until it was only Sirius and the Aurors.

“I don’t feel anything,” Sirius said as James checked the added wards and Baggins took his pulse before saying, “I’m going in, Sirius.”

Sirius sighed but nodded his consent, fighting to roll his eyes as he threw up his ocolomency shields too hide his old memories. Blacks had always had a natural immunity to legilimency and his parents had trained him from a young age to be one of the best as Black heir.

“Clean,” she said after a few minutes.

Ashworth nodded, “Clear.” And let the others back into the compartment.

“Is anyone going to tell us what’s going on?” James snapped, throwing himself onto the seat and glaring at Baggins, this time across from Sirius. Baggins was too his right, Regulus to his left. Peter and Remus sat next to James. Auror Ashworth had left to continue his patrol of the train. Baggins would go in the next 15 min.

“That’s Sirius’ call,” Baggins said.

Regulus nodded.

Sirius looked out the window when he said, “I’ll tell you later.” He’d never be able to lie to James if he was looking at him.

15 minutes later Baggins left and James took her place. The trolley passed and Sirius bought a few sweets. Peter and James bought a third of the cart and gives most of the chocolates to Remus. The three boys spent the rest of the journey playing Exploding Snap—or really the marauder’s version of exploding snap which was always more fun—and when the cards broke they turn into blue powder that disappears after a few minutes.

Regulus was reading  _Lilith: A Magical Mystery_ and Sirius just watched the world pass by.

He could see the tension building in the air and in the reflection of the glass he saw how the others watch him. James, the most obvious, glanced at him for long moments before returning to his cards. Remus sneaked a look every few seconds. But it is Peter who watched him near constantly from the corner of his eye as if he was never watching him to begin with.

Sirius wonders if Peter was almost sorted into Slytherin. And if so why did he ask for Gryffindor. Once, Sirius thought Peter should have gone to Hufflepuff for his loyalty, but he’d been proven wrong. But … maybe this time … Sirius hoped he would be right. He was going to change things. This time maybe he could save Peter and, in turn, save James.

Because he had forgotten how much he had missed seeing the three of them together, whether it be playing Exploding Snap and eating candy or making mischief in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts or sitting in his old flat, drinking beers after a hard day at work. And so yes, he would have to save Peter. He would stop him from becoming a spy. He just needed to figure out how.

(And if he couldn’t…if he couldn’t he wouldn’t let the same mistake happen twice. He still had a pit of rage reserved for that rat-of-a-man that he meet in the Shrieking Shack and while Sirius had enough control not to make the child pay, it was a thin, thin thread of control).

“Sirius, would you like to play?” Remus asked. He was covered in blue dust.

Before he could reply, Baggins open the door. “Robes on, boys. We’ll be at Hogwarts in half.”

Well then…

…

Walking through the front doors was like coming home.

“Well, boys,” James called into the bustling Great Hall. Above them the sky was a deep blue with wisps of clouds sometimes cutting off the light of the enchanted candles. “We’re back!”

“Yeah, we are,” Sirius agreed, a dopey sort of smile on his face. He still wasn’t ready to look them in the eyes but he had resolved to stop ignoring them. It would be like Regulus. He’d get used to it.

James grinned.

(It would take time, but he’d get used to it because he’d fix things. He knew he would. Just had to figure out how. And as he sat down at his table, he thought he saw Albus give him a wink.)

Soon the first years were coming in and the hall began to quiet as everyone paid attention to the sorting. Sirius didn’t though. He was too busy thinking and lazily swept his eye along the hall. He noticed that nearly everyone was a familiar face though he did not know all of them by name. Only a few of the younger Hufflepuffs he didn’t remember at all. Then he looked over at the teacher’s table.

McGonagle looked brilliant as ever and Dumbledore was wearing one of his ridiculous robes, a blue color covered in moving peacocks. He about gasped when he realized who was sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts chair: Baggins and Ashworth, his Aurors! That wasn’t right. He remembered his fifth year DA teacher, a dumpy sort of fellow who’d reminded Sirius of an elephant though for the life of him he couldn’t recall his name. He hadn’t been bad, just not very good.

(He hadn’t meant to start changing things already.)

Peter noticed them too, “Look whose are new DA.”

James scowled, “Great.”

Remus, to Sirius surprise, frowned.

“Whats wrong with you lot?” Sirius asked; he had been sure that at least James would have been excited. Who didn’t want to learn from real life Aurors? “They’re some of the best the DMLE has to offer.” And he wasn’t exaggerating. His father hadn’t excepted less.

“I don’t care,” James huffed, “I don’t like that Baggins woman.”

Sirius frowned but shrugged. There was something he was missing. “She’s brilliant,” Sirius added and then looked back at the Teacher’s Table. The sorting was over and Dumbeldore was about to make a speech.

“Welcome,” he started, “Welcome, new and old to Hogwarts: A school for Withcraft and Wizardly. Before we begin our feast, as I am sure you are rather famished, I would like to say a few words and only one of them serious.”

“So to start with the serious,” and for a moment, Sirius thought Dumbledore looked at him, “as many of your parents have been noted, there has been a threat of attack on the school.”

A murmur rose up but then fell quiet when Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Do not be alarmed, Hogwarts has many defenses up her sleeves. But that being said, Aurors have been stationed throughout the school. It is important that students abide by all curfew hours and to stay within bounds,” And now Sirius was sure Dumbledore had glanced over at them, “unless they wished to die a terrible, painful death.”

There was a moment of silence as Dumbledore let that settle in.

“Now with that out of the way, I am honored to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers…”

After that Sirius zoned out. He didn’t remember a threat of attack either or maybe he had just forgotten because nothing had happened. When he came back, the food had arrived and James had already put nearly everything on his plate.

Carefully picking at it, he managed to eat nearly half of what he had before Peter asked, “Why yo’ naught eatin’ the meat?” around a wad of mashed potatoes and gravy.

Sirius shrugged, “I think I’m going to go vegetarian.” He said after a moment, taking a bite of corn.

“Whatcha doin’ that four?” Peter asked.

“Just cause,” Sirius shrugged again. He hadn’t eaten meat since Remus cooked chicken for dinner the first night he’d gone to live with Remus. The smell alone had been enough to send Sirius hurling for nearly an hour as Remus held back his hair. After that, he hadn’t tried eating it.

At least now he could handle the smell.

“Has it got anything to do with what you’re not telling us?” James butted in.

Sirius picked at his carrots, “No.” he said after a moment, which wasn’t a lie exactly, just sort of one.

Remus had been suspiciously quiet this whole time. Just watching. Which meant he’d figured something out. Sirius shoved some salad into his mouth to keep from commenting. Everything would come to head in the dorm anyway. He just had to wait.

…

Sirius managed to shower and dress for bed before James, Remus, and Peter cornered him.

“You wanna know something odd?” James asked, but Sirius didn’t answer because it wasn’t a real question. “As we were leaving, Regulus pulled me aside and told me to protect you, Sirius. Now why would your brother, someone you said you haven’t been on good relations with since first year, pull me aside and demand I protect you?”

Sirius looked down and shrugged.

“Sirius…” Remus said in that gentle sort of way he’d say things to make sure Sirius listened and did as told. “If something is wrong, we’d like to help you.”

Peter nodded in silent agreement.

And Sirius was touched and honored. Loyalty…loyalty was such a fragile, rare thing to come by and here were three boys, children really, promising him their loyalty and their protection blindly, not even knowing if they’d be able to do anything. He knew part of it was born of naivety and innocents, but at the same time he knew that that wouldn’t stop these boys from going to the ends of the earth for him. Sirius wished he could treasure that loyalty as he should.

Instead, he lied. “It…” Sirius cleared his throat and tried again, “Because someone tried…er…is trying to, I suppose really, to…well…um…” he whispered the last bit so everyone had lean in close to catch what he said, “kill me….” he lied.

There he’d done it. He managed to lie.

Once again, there was silence.

Finally, Peter said, “That’s not funny….That’s not…”

“I’m not lying,” Sirius snapped defensively.  _Yes, you are_.

“Why?” Remus asked, cutting off whatever Peter was going to say, “Why would anyone…”

“Well, I’m still the Heir Black,” Sirius said with a shrug. This part he’d rehearsed pretty well. “And my Father’s been pushing some serious tax increases so…Baggins thinks it’s more personal though cause with me gone the second branch would take power and they’ve only got girls.”

“But what about Regulus?” Remus asked.

“He’s engaged to another family already,” Sirius said.

Peter squeaked slightly, taking a seat on Sirius’ bed.

Remus frown intensified. “Certainly, the Aurors…”

“That’s why those two Aurors are with me,” Sirius shrugged again, “A bit like bodyguards.”

Remus swore something wicked that Sirius was sure his older self would have been horrified at.

Finally, James spoke, “All right, then.”

“’All right’, then?” Remus cried, “There is nothing all right with this. As if there wasn’t enough danger this year…”

“All right, then,” James repeated, “I hate to admit it but Siri was right earlier. Baggins and Ashworth are some of the best, trained under my Da, so they’ll find out what’s going on.”

“That’s it?” Peter asked. Sirius wondered if Peter was relieved. Sirius knew he was.

“We’re gonna be on guard duty,” James continued, “Sirius goes no where alone.”

Sirius’ protest fell on dead ears as Remus and Peter agreed.

…

 “I think I should have a say in this!” Sirius insisted for the fourth time that night.

“Hush,” James said, unpacking his trunk.

“But…”

“Hush!” James insisted, leaning forward and covering Sirius’ mouth with his hands (which Sirius childishly licked, James didn’t even flinch). Peter was gathering his things to go in the shower and Remus was opening his trunk. “Don’t worry, Sirius. We’re gonna be here for you.” James smiled, “And when you can finally look me in the eye and tell me everything, we’re still gonna be here for you.”

Sirius felt like he couldn’t breath.

After that, he climbed into bed and cast a wandless silencing charm along the curtains and cried himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Comments are always appreciated.


	3. "Fuck."

“A man who has never gone to school may steal from a freight car; but if he has a university education, he may steal the whole railroad.”

~ Theodore Roosevelt

…

**Date: September 2, 1996**

Sirius woke up to find himself in Dumbledore’s office, lying awkwardly in one of the armchairs in front of the Headmaster’s desk. Fawkes greeted him with a light shrill.

Sirius nearly fell out of the chair in shock.

“Sirius Black?”

Sirius stood up and nearly tripped over his own two feet, “Professor! What?”

He watched, frozen, as Dumbledore raised his wand and speaks softly as if he were struggling for control, each word minced. “What. Are. you?”

Sirius shrugged, helplessly. “Honestly, Professor?” and here he could feel the hysteria creeping into his voice, “I haven’t a clue.”

This seemed to catch the Headmaster at surprise, but his wand did not waver and Sirius felt something along the edge of his mind and forced himself to let it in, identifying it as Dumbledore. They stood in a starring contest until Dumbledore was satisfied.

“And so you are dead and yet not so alive,” Dumbledore remarked, lowering his wand and taking his seat behind his desk. By his perch Fawkes cooed before taking off only to land on the arm of Sirius’ chair. Sirius lifted a hand to gently pet the beak of the phoenix and focused on his breathing, trying to keep it under control.

“I…I don’t quite understand sir,” Sirius accepted a lemon drop when offered. “But professor, I think its real. I tried at first. I was sure I was dead but now… I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose and it was only then that Sirius noticed his blackened hand, “Professor, what happened to you?”

“It is no concern,” Dumbledore waved his question away with his good hand. “What we need to focus on is understand what is going on and… how what you do in your time will affect how we handle things here.”

“So you believe me?” Sirius asked. “Because I barely believe me.”

“I see no way to disprove you.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when he felt the world tilt and he stumbled before falling to his knees.

“Sirius? Sirius!”

…

**Date: September 2, 1973**

In his defense, it was instinctual.

As Sirius settled back into his body, reawakening to the feeling of red cotton sheets and a heavy comforter, he also felt the push of hands on him, hands holding too tight. Hands on his shoulder moving him, shaking him, and his mind flew backwards (forwards?) to Azkaban and the guards and their jeers: _“Looks like the dementors ‘er comin’ for ye today, Blackie-boy~.”_ With a scream, Sirius pushed back whoever was holding him down with a wandless wordless blast of near-accidental magic that threw whatever was holding him away ( _far away, he needed to get away, away, save him! Save him, kill him. He couldn’t do this anymore_ ) and immediately threw up a shield charm until he heard the sound of a body hit the wall and two children scream that brought him back to reality.

Blinking furiously, he forced himself to look past the shadowed walls of Azkaban and see the red and gold and warmth of the Gryffindor dormitory. “Merlin!” Sirius cried. Jumping out of bed and letting the shield charm crash around him with the audible sound of breaking glass. “James? James, are you all right? I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.” Scrambling to his friend’s side, he immediately started checking for injuries, the few months he spent training to be a medi-wizard coming back to him as he examined his friend.

“Er gerouff,” James scowled, pushing Sirius away and pulling himself up until he was sitting, cross-legged on his ass. “You.” He pointed at Sirius, “You are….what was that?”

“Sorry?”

James gave him an unimpressed look.

“That was some spectacular accidental magic, Sirius,” Remus cut in, walking over with a cold towel, which he pressed into the back of James’ head. When James made to push him away, Remus just gave him a look and he stilled.

“Spectacular,” James grumbled under the towel, “Yeah right … see how you … against a bloody wall.”

“You have a concussion,” Sirius added, “You should see Madame Pomfrey.”

James grunted and Peter asked, “Where’d ya learn that sort of magic, Siri?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Didn’t go learning it, Wormtail. ‘ts why it’s accidental. Merlin, Pete.” At least the boy still had the potential to be as dumb and annoying as he remembered, Sirius thought darkly as he tried to keep his thoughts in the present instead of slipping backwards? (Forwards?) into memories best left alone.

“Wormtail?” James asked but his voice was lost under Peter’s disgruntled huff, “Yeah well yah don’t have to be such an ass about it.”

Sirius snorted and then scowled when James tried to get up. “Stubbornness doesn’t stop the fact that you’ve got a concussion.”

James pushed him off, “Where’d you learn that line? My mum.”

Remus cut in, “Sirius is still right, James. You should go see a healer for yer head.” When it looked like James was going to argue, Remus added, sharply, “Before we miss the rest of breakfast.”

…

Class was unexpectedly boring. It wasn’t that Sirius remembered it being rather fascinating, but still … this was a bit excessive. At least, he remembered learning something. Now … now he was a 37 year old man trapped in a 14-to-15 year old body studying spells he could do both wandless and wordless thanks to a man who once took out 17 Death Eaters in twenty minutes, winning the Battle for London during the first War of Terror (not that the Muggles knew, of course, and how the Muggle Ministry managed to hide that one was something Sirius never bothered to learn, too busy recovering in a private hospital wing to give a rat’s ass). But still he vowed to try to stay awake for most of it. After all, it wasn’t like he couldn’t do with some review.

Azkaban … had taken so much from him. Time, health, his reputation, but it had also taken his magic. And to have one’s magic compressed for so long only made it volatile and for the first weeks after accepting this place as reality, he had struggled to keep control of simple spells. His  _Lumos_  could blind. His  _Wingardium Leviosa_ was more of a blasting charm and he didn’t even want to consider what would happen if he tried any basic healing or repairing spells. But over time he’d practiced and with the help of a tutor who specialized in magical recovery named Professor Asumi (also paid to stay quiet) had begun to recover.

But really it was Regulus who had retaught him how to hold his wand that first week after he went to bed frustrated that wandless came so easily and wordless even faster, but his wand felt dead and heavy in his hand like a concrete lock wrapped around his magic. And it was Regulus who suggested a change in wand when his magic refused go in the direction he commanded and he broke three vases and slashed a portrait in an attempt to do a _Reparo_ when he broke a pair of glasses.

(But it wasn’t until Sirius threw his wand at the wall in frustration and it glowed an angry red that burnt to the touch when he attempted to pick it back up that his parents agreed to try a new wand.)

And it was Regulus held his hand when he entered Ollivander’s after so long (longer if you counted his reality) and comforted him when Ollivander had confirmed it was not just his recovering magic (so strong and so much after so long without anything) that made his spells volatile.

“Curious…” he had said, examining the wand with the same beady eyes that had stricken fear into every witch or wizard ages 11 and up. And Sirius was no exception, “Very curious…”

“Excuse me,” his father asked through gritted teeth because every Wizard knew to treat a wandmaker with respect even when they were being rather difficult, “But what, exactly, is so curious?”

Ollivander glanced at his father before setting the wand down and wandering into the stacks, “It seems,” he called out from somewhere in the back of his shop, “That the wand no longer sees you as a match, young Master Black.”

Regulus squeezed his hand but Sirius kept looking at his shoes, scuffed and splattered with mud from the wet cobblestone streets that wandered their way through Daigon Alley.

“Ah … this might do it,” the wandmaker muttered before returning to the front with a dusty, red box marked with a peculiar orange triangle. “Your wand hand, please.”

Sirius held out his right hand and accepted the offered wand. The wand hissed and spluttered and Sirius dropped the wand as soon as his fingers wrapped around the warm wood, allowing it to the drop the floor. Regulus bent down and picked it up and returned it to the wandmaker as Sirius continued to glare at the floor.

Olivander hummed and went back into the stacks. “Interesting….”

His father’s lips pulled down into a sneer and his mother sighed.

The wandmaker returned with three more boxes, each rejected upon contact and Sirius started to feel a certain level of despair wrap its way around his throat. He was breathing hard.

Finally, twelve wands later and a tension as thick as fog had settled around the shop and Sirius was clutching Regulus’ hand like a lifeline (and when had be begun to rely so heavily on his brother when before the thought of relying on his family would have set him heaving in disgust?).

“Perhaps…” Olivander whispered, and disappeared into the back of his shop once again to return with a box of dark blue-nearly-black and pulled out a wand of dark wood with an unfinished handle and handed it to Sirius. With shaking fingers for Sirius knew this wand, he knew it because he had seen it before, handled with precision that came from a natural connection and confidence that he could not conjure in that moment.

This time the connection was near instant. With a quick flip and a muttered **_“_** _Wingardium Leviosa **”**_ he levitated the blue box with a near perfect control before setting it back into place. Regulus grinned. His mother sighed softly and his father’s shoulders relaxed.

Sirius could not find it in himself to smile.

“11 inches, holly, and phoenix feather.” Ollivander described and Sirius focused on keeping his breathing steady as he gripped his new wand close, the hum of connection warm in his chest. Closing the box and handing it to his father, Olivander continued, “Free of charge in return for the previously owned wand.”

“Why do you want it?” Sirius had been unable to keep himself from asking.

“Something…happened to you, didn’t it, young Master Black?” the wandmaker guessed, leaning closer as if departing a great secret. His father glared and his mother finally moved away from the door and placed a hand on Regulus’ shoulder who continued to hover close by.

Sirius cleared his throat awkwardly, “Why do you say that?”

The wandmaker tilted his head as if examining a fine specimen before stating with absolute certainty, “Your wand mourns for you, young Sirius Black. 11 and a half inches, vine and dragon heart’s string, I remember how hard your wand fought for you.”

“Nearly jumped out of the box,” Sirius agreed, thinking back to the first time he had stepped foot into the wand maker’s shop 26 years ago.

“For it to give you up is near unimaginable.” Ollivander agreed. “So one can only wonder … yes, wonder why …”

“That is quite enough,” his mother snapped, cutting off the wandmaker. “You may have the wand. Sirius, come.”

Nodding quickly, Sirius nearly ran from the shop, only Olivander’s voice stopping him in his tracks, “That particular phoenix has only given two cores, dear Sirius. I would be careful not to fall into the footsteps of that wand’s brother,” Olivander warned, “Careful, indeed.”

Sirius nodded and licked his lips, “I’ll do my best, sir.” He promised, smiling shakily, before joining his mother on the street.

“See you do.”

 “Sirius, oi! Sirius,” James snapped, waving a hand in front of his face, bringing him back to this reality. “You there?”

Sirius pushed James’ hand away with a soft huff, before glancing down at his page where he had doodled, to his near horror, a rather detailed drawing of his former wand. Slamming the book shut and corking his ink, he asked, “Your head all right?”

“Yes, mum,” James sighed, grabbing Sirius’ bag out of his hands and slinging it over his shoulders. “Are you coming? LUNCH TIME!” he roared.

Sirius chuckled softly and hurried after him, tucking the quill he still held behind his ear.

“Nice look,” Peter teased.

“Don’t you know, Pettigrew,” Sirius said with an exaggerated French accent, “It’s the latest fashion in  _Paree_.”

“Careful, Sirius,” Remus warned, “You’ll start a trend.”

Sirius laughed, “Please. I’m good but I’m not that good.” He said before taking a running jump and catching the staircase just as it began to move with James and the others right on his heel.

James leaned over and caught Peter just as he began to tip backwards and pulled him firmly onto the staircase. “Remember that time you convinced everyone that daisy chains were the next best thing?”

“Okay, first of all, who doesn’t love flower crowns,” Sirius said, sitting on the railing as the staircase finished it’s last turn and began to descend downwards, “And I didn’t convince anyone to do anything. I just wore it.” Or at least that was how he remembered it, but the memory was a bit hazy as all memories from childhood usually were.

“How about the three ties?” Remus asked.

“That one was a bet,” Sirius clarified, “And the people just followed.” He grinned, “I can’t help being a role model,” he added as he stepped off the staircase and onto the first floor, barely dodging a group of giggling firsties that managed to barely avoid stepping on Peter’s toes, as he complained later.

“Uh-huh.”

“What? It was!” Sirius insisted.

Stepping back to allow James to open the doors to the Great Hall with a bit of a unnecessary flourish, he followed the other’s to their seats where he sat next to Frank Longbottom and Mary Macdonald, both of which made Sirius eyes feel wetter then they should have.

“Hey, Sirius,” Frank greeted and it took a moment for Sirius to find his voice.

“How was your summer?” he asked, tracing a finger around his goblet.

“Not as exciting as yours,” Frank near whispered with an exaggerated grin before saying in a louder voice, “We went to America.”

Sirius felt his eyes widen, “America?” he asked, his voice a slight octave too high, catching the attention to Remus who was now studying him with narrowed eyes (but he’d been doing that nearly all morning and it made Sirius itch to know what he knew). Picking up the goblet, he took a sip of water before adding, “I’ve only gone to New York.”

“Oh yeah? We went down to Florida. I got to…”

“Sirius,” Remus cut in, “I didn’t know you got a new wand.”

Sirius felt his cheeks heat up and he prayed it wasn’t as visible as it felt as nearly everyone at the table turned to look at him, “Over the hols.” He clarified, holding out his wand for Remus and James, who was sitting to his right, to see.

“It’s a beauty,” Frank grinned. “Though more fluid then your last.”

“Rude, Longbottom,” James teased, “What would the Matriarch of the Longbottom family be saying about you making comments on other wizard’s wands.”

Frank held out his hands in surrender, “Just don’t be tell her, please? She actually would send me a howler for something like that.”

“A bit strict,” Peter teased.

Frank grinned, “You have no idea.”

Remus hummed, “He does have a point. It’s a different wood?”

Sirius shrugged.

“Yours snap?” Peter asked around a mouthful of mash and Sirius just noticed there was food on his table and food on his plate and he glared at James with a silent  _‘I can feed myself’_.

James gave a lopsided grin and shrugged _, ‘I know, but who cares.’_

“My da did that once and my gran’mum near blew a howler cause it used to my da’s da.” Peter added, seeming not to notice the exchange.

“Blacks used to do that until we’d figured out a personal wand was better than a heirloom,” Sirius added, tucking his wand away before taking a bite of salad, somewhat lost in thought of the last time he had been around such a loud and lively table. There was no meat on his plate and he nudged James with his shoulder in thanks. “Also, mouth shut when ya eat, Pete. Don’t need to see your food, please and thank you.”

“Merlin’s soggy pants,” Peter huffed, swallowing before continuing, “You do sound like James’ Mum.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Not my fault I’m maturing, Petee. Maybe you should try it.”

Mary paused her conversation with Lily (and how he had forced himself to ignore her. They weren’t friends. Not yet. And he didn’t know what to say to her, how to explain that he had failed her son, had failed her, had seen her as a sister and lost her so abruptly, don’t think about it, donthingaboutitdon’th-) to add, “The day you mature, Black, is the day I find myself failing Potions.”

Sirius buried his thoughts as far down as they’d go and gave an exaggerated sigh, “Poor, Sluggie. How much he’ll be missing you in his club this year, Macdonald.” He said much to the amusement of James and Peter and Mary (and Remus, he could tell. Even if the boy just rolled his eyes and smiled).

And he had missed this. He had. He had missed the lightness of this time, the jokes, and the comradely. He had missed the way he just seemed to fit with these people. And he knew, every time he looked at them, that he was looking at ghosts. He knew it, but he didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. Instead he thought about how happy he was and how happy they were and the way the sun seemed to shine brighter than normal and the way the world seemed to just breath easy. And he could think about that for now. Just for now, he could be happy.

He would deal with Dumbledore and the wand and the future later. He could think about it later. About what it meant that he now held Harry’s wand…

Mary groaned, “I wish. You know he’s already sent out invitations?”

Peter nodded, “I received one in the morning. Did it have to be this weekend?”

Sirius took another bite of his food, picking around the olives. “I haven’t checked my mail yet.”

“You know you’ve got one,” Mary sighed, “The only kid he’s dropped was that Fredrick fellow in Ravenclaw and that was because he set the private stores on fire. No way he’d drop you.”

“One can dream.”

James added, “I’m thinking of wearing my purple robes this time.”

Mary actually gagged and Frank roared with laughter, “The one-ones with the peacocks on ‘em?”

James grinned. “Might as well have some fun with it.”

“Maybe I can order something horrid before it’s time,” Peter mused.

“Go as a matching set?” Mary suggested. “Slughorn’s head will spin. You know how he likes to take pictures at the first meeting.”

“Maybe I’ll even buy this one,” Peter joked. No one ever bought those pictures. It wasn’t that Slughorn was actually a terrible person or a terrible teacher. In fact, the Professor was actually quite nice to joke around with once you got to know the guy, but the way he tried to rub elbows with people…it was just bloody damn annoying.

Sirius looked over at Remus who had been oddly quiet to see what he thought when he noticed his friend was missing. “Where’s Remus gone to?” he asked.

“He said he was going to the library,” Mary offered, “Right, Lils?”

Lily turned from where she was talking with Alice and nodded, “We’ve got a project in Muggle Studies and I guess he went on ahead. I guess I should go join him,” she pouted, before downing her goblet. “Tell the other’s I’ll see them in Herbology, kay?”

“All right,” Mary promised.

As Lily left, Sirius saw Professor McGonagal walking over and he felt a pit of dread settle in his stomach thanks to the way her lips were pulled down. “Mister Black,” she called and was cut off by a hurried, “He didn’t do it,” from James.

The table laughed.

 She hummed in disagreement and continued, “The Headmaster would like to see you. You’ll be having lunch in his office.”

“Oh…”

“Now, Mister Black.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

…

“Toffee bit, Mister Black?” Dumbledore offered, which Sirius declined. Next to him his mother took another sip of her tea. “The elves will be by with lunch in only a moment.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Sirius said, stirring his own tea before taking a sip.

“How have your classes been?” Dumbledore asked when his mother still didn’t say anything (and why was she here? And why was he here?) Never before had the homely office of the headmaster felt so stifling.

“Good, professor. I’ve only had Charms and Transfiguration.” Sirius said, “Tuesdays are a late day for me,” he clarified. “After this, I will have Arithmancy and Herbology.”

“Good, good.” Dumbledore nodded, “I am glad you are enjoying your classes. OWLS is a stressful time so it is important to find all the fun and enjoyment once can.”

His mother added, “I am sure Sirius will do wonderfully on his OWLS. He is, after all, one of the top students in his grade.”

Sirius fought the urge to blush because this was all strange and new because since when had his mother ever bragged about his grades and accomplishments without a backhanded insult to turn a crease into a slap. And it was putting him on edge as he waited for the other shoe to drop, for the mind game he’d missing to finally present itself.

Finally, Auror Ashworth and Baggins entered the room, each looking oddly ruffled. “We apologize for our lateness, Headmaster, Madame Black,” Baggins greated, bowing her head to first his mother and then to the headmaster. “There was some trouble between a few of the sixth years that needed handling.”

“It is in our report,” Ashworth said before greeting his mother and then the headmaster. He took a seat next to his partner and accepted the cup of tea the house elf made for him. “Thank you, Whistle.”

The house elf bowed before disappearing as quietly as they had arrived.

“Now that we are all here, we can move on to the business of finalizing what safety measures are being taken to protect my son.” His mother started, “I thank you for your patients on this matter, Albus.”

The headmaster took a sip of his tea, “And I thank you for agreeing to compromise with me. I understand this is a very private family matter.”

 “We’ve been able to double the wards on most of the main entrances so far, adding several detection spells—some experimental—to detect  _polyjuice_  or  _Imperius_ ,” Baggins reported, “And because of the added threat on the school, the Minister is pushing for dementors to…”

“The Minister has already received my answer on that matter. This is a place of learning. I cannot afford to scare my students.” Dumbledore said with a finality that made Ashworth’s jaw clench.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sirius demanded, “Is all of this because of what happened last summer?” He hadn’t thought…well…his lie seemed to be getting more and more complicated at the moment, wasn’t it? What was he supposed to do when they found out that no one had made him walk out that window?

There was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind like an itch and before he could even consciously consider his actions, he pushed it from his mind with a force that made the Headmaster’s hold on his tea cup tighten and his blue-blue eyes narrow.

“Not all of it,” the headmaster reassured him as if nothing had happened and Sirius became busy starring at the tablecloth. “But precautions are necessary for both the sake of yourself and your peers.”

“You don’t think they’d go after my friends, do you?”

“As the headmaster said, all precautions are being taken to ensure that that does not happen,” Ashworth assured him.

Sirius frowned but relented.

“I was wondering what you had to say about our ask for an escort,” his mother asked.

“The portraits and ghosts have been informed to keep an eye on Master Sirius,” Baggins said, “Seeing as our roles are to be more covert, following around Master Sirius would be an overstepping of boundaries.”

Great. First the Marauders and now every pair of eyes in Hogwarts would be following him. How was he going to keep from messing up?

So lost in thought, he didn’t notice the food had arrived until his mother set a sandwich on his plate that he proceeded to pic up and eat as if on autopilot. Meatless. Glancing up at his mother, he watched as she made no move to acknowledge him, instead seeming to argue with Dumbledore over something. How had she known? House elves perhaps?

“There is also a matter of Master Sirius’ spell work,” Ashworth suddenly added and Sirius tuned back into the conversation. “I was thinking private studies in Defense against the Dark Arts on top of Baggin’s mind strengthening should be considered.”

His mother thinks this over as Dumbledore hums in neither agreement nor refusal. Favoritism was always a danger when an old family heir was being considered. Sirius could remember that much from his school days, the way the teachers did their best to treat him no different from the average student despite his good academics and more than sufficient athletic career.

Finally his mother relents, “For his safety as long as it is kept private.”

Dumbledore nods in agreement.

…

Sighing, Sirius made his way back to the dorm with heavy thoughts and heavier limbs as sleep tugged at the edge of his thoughts. This is what he got for losing track of time in the library. Maybe he should have gone up with the others as they had asked but really he needed some time alone to just breath, some time to just think.

Not that it had helped. He was as tired and confused as ever and he doubted there was a book or a spell out there that could give him the answers he was looking for. What had it meant when he’d slipped through that gate? Why was he here? Why could he see Dumbledore?

Deciding to take a short cut, he turned left instead of right on the fourth floor and headed towards the secret passageway behind the blue armor that would allow him to bypass the funky sixth floor staircase and make getting to the other side of the castle much, much faster. As he walked, he tried not to think about how Baggins had said the portraits and ghosts of Hogwarts had been tasked with keeping an eye on him. It was overall rather unnerving, the idea of all those eyes on him, watching him, following him…. He had been in enough prisons to know what that could do to his psyche and desperately tried not to think on it.

As he made his way through the secret passage, his feet aching (and how he had forgotten how big this castle was) he froze when he heard hissed whispers through the war. “The dark lord…”

Pressing his ear against the wall, he strained to make out more of the conversation. It sounded like three voices though he couldn’t make out who it was. “He…they warned…..Dumbledore…”

“Did he…deadline…”

“….afraid…”

A sudden “ENOUGH!” caused Sirius to stumble backwards, the books he held in his hands tumbling to the ground.

Footsteps from the other side of the wall caused Sirius’ heartbeat to race as he quickly grabbed the books he had dropped. Sudden knocking made his heart stop and he scrambled to get up and get out.

“This wall is hollow.”

He got up and started running through the secret passage, holding his books close, as he heard a sudden pounding on the wall.

“We’ll find you,” one of the voices screamed as if they were right next to him and Sirius only ran faster. “Better keep your mouth shut or we’ll find you!”

“Fuck.” Sirius gasped as he slammed the secret passage shut behind him and scrambled up the last staircase to the Gryffindor common room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...going to start writing this again. Improved this chapter. Started on the fourth. Will do my best to update a few times this summer.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a story I wrote when I was bored and looking for Sirius-goes-back-in-time fics that seemed to have all mysteriously been removed from this site in the five years I was gone *sad face* I might continue it when I have time and if ppl want to read it.


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